Message-ID: <843eli$9705192249@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: Andrew Roller X-Mailer: Mozilla 3.01Gold (Macintosh; I; 68K) Subject: FUCK DECENCY 269 Bush League (nnd) g2 “I would sing of boys Loved by the gods, and girls inflamed by love To things forbidden, and earned punishment.” - Ovid (damn pervert! we’ll kick him off AOL too!) Andrew Roller Presents FUCK DECENCY Issue No. 269 Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in Bush League Chapter Three Not content with bolting us down to the logs, or tying our hands, the men next fixed spreader bars to our ankle straps. They used these poles between our legs to keep them wide apart. I had one between my legs, a good three-footer, spreading my legs right up to my hiney, and Cheyenne had one, and Polly, who was now blubbering, got one also. “Pee right where you are if you have to, I don’t care,” Louis told Polly. “Okay, I WILL then!” Polly declared, though her tears. “Well?” Louis asked. The girl’s bottom shivered but she delivered no pee. “Now I don’t have to,” Polly gulped. “You never did,” Louis replied. “Extra strokes for you my dear Polly, for being a liar!” “It was just a likkle fib,” Polly pleaded. Tears rolled anew down her wet cheeks. “Bye, I love you,” Cheyenne said. She was closest to me and she turned her head to me. “Bye bye,” I replied, shivering, for I knew we were just seconds away from our torment. The men hefted their whips behind us and swung them into the wind and commented on the possibilities of their uses. Meanwhile, not to limit their enjoyment in any way, they stripped off their clothes and stood buck naked behind us, enjoying the sun on their cocks, their balls. They were fully erect and promised to ream Polly and Cheyenne and I most astutely once they’d finished punishing us. Louis bent over me and kissed me. I felt his dangling cock bounce off my heinie. “I love you,” he whispered to me. “And I love your bottom. That’s why I’m going to whip it.” His finger was under my chin and I lowered my mouth quickly and caught it between my lips. I sucked hard, but I did not bite him, I did not bite. Andre gave Polly her goodbye kiss. And then they both kissed Cheyenne, making me feel just a tad jealous, despite my fears. Louis got behind me and caressed my bare fanny. His cock bobbed just behind its spheres, tempted, but wishing to see me punished by the whip first. After he’d touched me with his hand he picked up the implement he’d chosen to start off with, a soft leather whip with thin cords. Deceptively he brushed it over my ass, touching me with it in soft warm caressing movements, as if it were a sponge instead of a whip. Then, abruptly, he stood. Andre, who’d been playing with Polly’s ass, stood also. “We’ll share Cheyenne,” Louis told Andre. “Sounds fine with me,” Andre said. “Let’s see which of us can make them cry the most,” Louis suggested. “They’re already crying,” Andre replied. And we were, though I at least tried my best not to. I knew it would hurt and we would not be spared. When we rode through the Indian village at dusk they turned out to watch our jeep pass. Louis drove slowly, as a hunter might, showing off his catch. Polly, Cheyenne and I could not sit. We were bound over the back seat, our asses high, still frigging ourselves to try to assuage away the pain that they’d inflicted, Louis and Andre, high up in the mountain crags, amidst the daisies. We were red-faced, sobbing. Our tits swung with every movement of the jeep’s rolling wheels. Polly gasped anew as a fresh orgasm seized her. It was our only hope of relief. Our bottoms, sore and ruthlessly cloven by our boyfriend’s pricks, red as the sunset, offered us no respite. Only our fingers could, working constantly at our slits. We’d been fucked anally, not in our pussies, perhaps purposely, so we’d still be playing with ourselves when the jeep drove down from the mountain. I knew we were making a spectacle of ourselves. I heard an Indian woman laugh. Young children giggled. They knew we were being naughty. They did not know of whips or penises but they knew girls must not rub themselves. Even the littlest girls knew that. Yet here we were, big girls by comparison, and we were frigging ourselves, and they could see by our bottoms that we’d paid for our naughtiness. What they did not know was that we had not frigged ourselves and then been punished for it. We’d been punished, despite our goodness, erotically punished, and we’d had to frig ourselves as our only hope of taking our minds off our bottoms. Rose received us back at the castle with hugs and kisses. We were bathed and put to bed, all in my room, so we could console each other. The men had not bothered to put salve on our bottoms but Rose did, after our bath. “Stop playing with yourselves, girls. It’s over,” Rose told us before turning out our light. Then she clicked it off, shut the door, and we cried ourselves to sleep. Downstairs, Louis and Andre smoked cigars and regaled Rose with our torments. I heard her tinkling laughter through the open window, Louis’s gruff descriptions. I could not hear his precise words but there was no question he and Andre were telling her about their day. In my dreams, after I’d fallen asleep, I saw Rose make love to Louis and Andre, and I know my dreams were true. “Such bad little girls!” Rose scolded, waking us at first light. I was hungry. I’d not eaten all the previous day, and had quite forgotten about it, after my spanking up in the mountains. She served us breakfast in bed. We ate like spoilt children, the three of us all in a row. Our covers were pulled up to just below our breasts, letting our nipples show quite naughtily, but we revelled in the naughtiness, not caring, and Rose did not mind either. She left her own breasts bare so that we would feel more comfortable in her presence. We were all females. We ate with our fingers and she helped us drink our cocoa, lifting our heads for us so that we would not spill it on ourselves. As I sipped my cocoa, feeling so special and cared for, I felt my bottom against the smooth white sheet. Just the pressing of the sheet against it made me wince a little. I heard Polly whimper as she shifted within the bed to better accept her cocoa. And Cheyenne, our newest friend, mewled out a sulky little whine. “My, such pampered little girls,” Rose chided. She wiped my chin with a napkin. I’d let a little of the cocoa escape my lips. “You receive a nice punishment and all you can think to do it whine about it.” Polly, despite her bottom, eagerly opened her mouth and vied, like a little kitten, for a sip from my cup. Rose gave her a taste and Polly greedily drank down the rest of my portion. We were not harmed. No, just reminded every moment of how our bottoms had been treated. Whipped, with all manner of implements, all of them carried aloft into the mountains by poor Polly, the littlest of us. As unnecessary and unpleasant as our whipping had been, the ride home had been even worse. Sitting was, of course, out of the question. Even we knew that. So the men had simply dumped us over the back seat of their jeep and strapped us down to it. Fortunately, perhaps to show they were not utter brutes, one of them went to the trouble of uncovering a coil of soft rope. He’d rummaged around in the jeep until he’d found it. I didn’t see who. I was too busy crying. Our upper thighs had rested against the seat back, not our hips. This was to permit our hands to freely frig ourselves. It was a necessity. I don’t think I could have borne the ride back if it weren’t for my busy fingers. Even hiking down the mountain, forced to carry the very packs that had precipitated our distress, we had to play with ourselves. All three of us, myself, Cheyenne, and Polly, had traipsed down the mountainside with at least one hand busily fondling our slit. Meanwhile, the men followed, leering at our bottoms. Their loins were utterly satisfied. They had pried their way into our clenching bottomholes with their ‘meat-packer pricks,’ as they called them, and it was hardly a wrong name for them for I felt more stuffed than a Christmas turkey when Louis, who had to work at me for quite some time, finally got his awful Thing up me. I could not relax with the severity of the strapping he’d given me. He’d had to fight his way into my nether hole, while I screamed and kept gyrating my bottom and clenching and squeezing it, trying to throw off the scalding burns from the strap. The air, passing over our upraised tushies on the ride back down, had proven a welcome relief. I remember wiggling my ass at the sun, not caring if it tanned me, hoping to somehow cool down my bottom in the wind. The men deposited our backpacks in the small bed at the back of the jeep. My chin bounced on my backpack as they drove us home. To the castle. It was our home now. “It hoits!” Polly had sobbed to me as the sun set. “Keep rubbing!” I’d shouted back to her between my own sobs. A moment later she’d crooned into orgasm. The wind blew through our hair, streaming it out beyond our faces. Our backs flexed as we worked ourselves into orgasm after orgasm. We were very wet girls by the time we got back to the castle. “There. Breakfast’s all done,” Rose announced a little later. She laid down her knife and fork. We’d all eaten from the same silverware. It was easier that way. Polly smacked her lips. “Mmmm! I liked my eggs,” she declared. “Let’s just hope the eggs in your womb don’t like all the sperm that’s been pumped into you,” Rose replied. “I haven’t been keeping up on your pills like I should have.” “It’s okay. I was fucked up the butt yesterday,” Polly replied. She spoke quite frankly, as if telling teacher she’d caught a frog in her palm, or memorized her multiplication tables. “And how was it, darling?” Rose asked, caressing Polly’s face. The girl looked down. Her eyes gazed at her nipples. I watched as the tips hardened. “It was...bigggg,” Polly answered. “Andre fucked you?” Rose asked. “Mmm hmm,” Polly nodded. She bobbed her chin. “He was weally big but I just kept bearing down, like he told me, opening my bottomcheeks as much as I could. Except, it was hard to breathe ‘cause his penis actually pushed the air right out of me!” Polly exclaimed. “It always feels that way when a man fucks you, up the bottom I mean,” Rose said. She stroked Polly’s blonde hair. She lifted a strand to get it out of Polly’s eyes. “You’ll get used to it, darling. And as for you, Fleury,” she said. Her eyes met mine even as she continued playing with Polly’s hair. “Louis wants you put into a butt-harness. You know, the little item I told you about earlier. You’ll wear it all day from now on at the castle. He insists he wants you more accessible.” I bit my lip. I did not want to be... altered. Rose knew my apprehension and, as if to console me, she slid a finger into my mouth. I bit down on it. I sucked it and looked up at her with wide eyes. “Some men wish to have their girls made more receptive, using such a device,” she explained simply. I was aware of Cheyenne, next to me, swallowing. Her throat was dry. Our cups were empty. She was swallowing fear. Polly said nothing. She listened, watching the tips of her nipples. She knew no such device was intended for her. Andre liked her just as she was. We bathed and tidied up in the bathroom. Then Rose took us downstairs to show our bottoms to the men. Trooping into the parlor, I was amazed to see we were not alone. Rose had preceded us by a few minutes. She sat interviewing a young mother and her husband. With them were their two daughters. They were moppets, kindergarten-age, squirming in their seats and oblivious to what their mother and father were discussing. “I’ll want daycare for the children,” I heard the mother’s voice say. She turned and saw us. Polly, myself, and Cheyenne were utterly nude. Louis and Andre were seated on the sofa in their tuxes and we marched up to them and turned around. “Oooh, they’re naked!” one of the woman’s moppets exclaimed. “They’ve been bad, girls,” their father told them. Their mother would have shushed them, I think, but her face was ashen and she was sitting very stiffly beside her husband. “We have nursery facilities on the premises,” Rose said to the young mother. She was writing on a pad. “So you’ve not had enjoyable sex since the birth of the twins?” “No,” the father of the moppets answered. “It happens sometimes. A female gets pregnant, becomes a mother, and then feels the pressure of her new babies. I’m sure it was especially true in your case, with twins. But there’s no reason you can’t both resume an active sex life. Sometimes the woman just needs to be reawakened. We have all the necessary things for that here. As you can see, we help young girls get in touch with their bodies all the time here.” “Yes,” the young mother answered. The father looked at us with an interested eye. I felt Louis palm my bottom. It didn’t hurt too much, except his hand was calloused and their roughness made me flinch. “Oh! You spanked me too HARD yesterday,” Polly told her boyfriend Andre. Louis laughed. Cheyenne stood between us, waiting her turn, just as she’d had to wait for her turn yesterday upon the mountain. At least today the hands passing over us were consoling ones. “Bend down,” Louis told me. I leaned forward and reached down and grasped my ankles. He pried apart my nether cheeks and examined my hole. “I told her we’d begin widening it today,” Rose said to Louis. “Good,” he answered. He pressed the pad of his pointing finger against my hineyhole. “I don’t want mine made bigger!” Polly said, as Andre made her bend over, and Cheyenne too. “Another year and we’ll do it, maybe,” Andre mused. “Or perhaps I’ll have you branded back here. Don’t squeeze your cheeks so. I’m trying to see into your hole.” “I know! That’s why I’m trying to squeeze it shut!” Polly blurted, but the prying of Andre’s fingers finally won out and he treated himself to a close examination of her. Polly wiggled, rocking to and fro on her heels, an impatient child waiting to be let up. Her breasts swung freely under her chest. I wondered if we’d been ruined at all by our ride back home in the jeep. Our tits had swung like fruit in a windstorm, jounced and jostled by the jeep. We’d been without bras, of course. We’d not brought any. We’d ridden unprotected, despite the best efforts of our mothers to keep us in training bras from the minute our breasts had started growing. I looked at mine. They seemed okay. Louis reached out and passed his hand over my dangling nipples. He liked them, anyway. He plumped my breasts in his palms and for a moment I thought he would rise up and unzip himself and take me right there, in front of the two little girls. Perhaps he might have, but Rose uttered his name and his hands slipped away from my tits and he slapped my flank to make me stand up again. “You do not mind if your wife is fucked by others?” Rose asked the husband of the young mother matter-of-factly. “No,” he answered. His eyes were on us. Three underage girls with our tits wobbling and our bottoms quite well-spanked. The twin little girls giggled. One of them lifted her dress and began playing with herself. “Don’t,” their mother said. She slapped away the girl’s hand. But the little one went right back to frigging herself, and her sister soon followed. “No harm will come to my daughters?” the wife asked. “They will be returned to you as virginal as they are now,” Rose smiled. “Girls,” she said, addressing them. “The reason the big girls across the room got spanked is because they played with themselves like you’re doing now.” “Ooooh! I don’t want a spanking!” the one who had started the game of frigging announced. She withdrew her hand from her panties. Her sister copied her, pulling her hand up quickly and abruptly. “That’s better, girls,” Rose told them. Their father nodded at them approvingly. Never mind the Redeemer... I KNOW THAT MY FTP SITE LIVETH ! Many of my former America Online ftp site stories have now been posted to the newsgroup alt.sex.stories Quite a few of these stories have never been seen before on alt.sex.stories The list begins with Love Child, and ends with A Mansion for Masochists. When complete, the last story will be Chambers of Love. Please note that Chambers of Love should actually be read before Love Child, as it was written first. Some of the posts are quite long, 70 pages or more. They could take a while to open. All of the posts should be virus free. During this time period all of my stories may be reposted throughout the Internet, so feel free to put them on your BBS if you wish, or your ftp site, or your web site, or your non-profit-oriented CD ROMS. It is okay to print my stories in non-profit-oriented zines as well. (This is gratuitous on my part, and may be withdrawn at my option at any time.) AND IN THE END... “His mischief and his laid-back irony were unwelcome in that earnest age. Victorian sensibilities were affronted by the themes of his stories: rape, murder, incest, sex changes, torture, cannibalism. No wonder Shakespeare liked him.” - The Economist (on Ovid), May 10, 1997, pg. 84. -------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------ -Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age statement to: roller66@inreach.com -formerly I was roller666@aol.com -To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder. -END OF 269 EMISSION - Ovid: Metamorphoses, Book 10, lines 152-154. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /